


Coming Up for Air

by Wonderfulsause51



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: College, Gay, High School, Lashton - Freeform, Love, M/M, Romance, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 15:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2657453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonderfulsause51/pseuds/Wonderfulsause51
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when one boy shatters everything you thought you knew about yourself?<br/>"I don't like boys. But I like you. Does that make sense?"<br/>"No."<br/>"Good."</p>
<p>{luke+ashton}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 0.1

**Author's Note:**

> Drop a heart, break a name
> 
> We're always sleeping in
> 
> and sleeping for the wrong team.
> 
> -Fall Out Boy, 'Sugar, We're Going Down'

⚑ Luke ⚐

"I'm coming!" Luke yelled out of the supply room, stuffing the last of the paintbrushes into the cabinet and shutting it noisily. He looked down at his jeans, glad that he had been able to spare them of the white paint now spread as evenly as he could get it across the formerly yellow walls.

"Jesus, Luke! It's my fucking break and we've got a customer!" Dave yelled, pounding on the door with his fist. Luke rolled his eyes and stepped out into the brightly lit store. His paint job looked good, he observed. Really good. He smiled to himself and walked up to the register, deftly pinning his name tag to his shirt.

"You work here?" A voice rang out from the right side of the shop and Luke glanced towards it quickly.

"Um, yeah. What can I help you with today?"

"I'm looking for a new cajón. Do you guys stock those?" A guy, probably around Luke's age, was standing next to one of the display drum kits. He had curly hair and dimples and one of those catching smiles that you find yourself involuntarily imitating.

"Yeah. We've got a couple in the back if you want to take a look. We don't keep them out front because people always sit on them." Luke gestured for the boy to follow him, propping open the door to the back room. The boy moved towards him, but during the process of squeezing between the counter and the wall, he--

"No!" Luke lunged toward the guy a moment too late. "No, no, no! My wall!"

"My shirt!" The offender said at the same time, looking down at his now white-paint-covered tee like nothing more unfortunate had ever befallen a black article of clothing. "Oh, shit."

"Now I have to do that whole part over again." Luke groaned.

"My girlfriend's going to kill me." The wall-smear-er said unhappily. "Damn. Damn, damn, damn."

Luke recovered himself. He had a customer and he really didn't want to lose his job because god knows he needed the money.

"Um." He said, quelling the annoyance crawling out of his throat. "You still want to look at those cajóns?"

The boy shook his head, frowning. "No, man. I gotta run home and change as fast as I can or else I'll be late for my date and my girlfriend's already pissed at me for--sorry. Didn't mean to ramble there."

"Okay." Luke said, his heart dropping because if this kid walked out ten minutes to closing, that would mean that not a single sale had been made the entire time he had been on shift, which was not good news for James & Brozz Music Co. or Luke's future employment. The boy turned and started walking toward the door.

"Hey, wait!" Luke said suddenly, fueled by desperation and the turkey sandwich he had eaten for lunch. "I, um, might have a shirt you can borrow. If you look at the cajóns."

"Are you bribing me?" The boy said, a smirk playing on his lips ruefully.

"Nope." Luke dead panned. "Just presenting an option."

The boy chuckled a little. "Okay. Give me the shirt and I'll see what you've got."

Luke heaved a relived sigh, digging around in his bag and pulling out the Nirvana tee he had stashed in it that morning. He was going to put it on after work, but this was more important than looking cool when he walked home.

"Good taste in music, I see." The boy observed with a grin, and once again Luke smiled back.

"Hell yeah. Now this time be careful when you come back here--the paint's wet." Luke said, watching as the boy carefully maneuvered in between the counter and the wall.

"In my defense, you didn't tell me the paint wasn't dry."

"Yeah, my bad." Luke shrugged it off, handing him the shirt. "You gotta bring that back to me sometime, okay?"

"For sure." The boy grinned gratefully, pulling his ruined shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. "My name's Ashton, by the way."

"Luke." Luke said, noticing the smooth skin on Ashton's toned abdomen. He looked like he worked out a lot. He stretched Luke's shirt over his frame, arching his back as he wiggled into it. It was a little tight on him, but it looked fine otherwise. Luke was tall, but he was skinny, and Ashton was definitely defined when it came to the muscle department.

"Okay, so the cajóns now, right? And then I've got to go or Livvy's going to rupture her spleen or something." Luke raised his eyebrows at Ashton, who shot him a what-are-you-gonna-do look. "She's a little bit of a drama queen."

"Sounds like it." Luke said, and proceeded to show the small array of cajóns they had in stock to the impatient Ashton.

"See, the thing is, I need to test sound and a couple other things on these before I buy one, but I don't actually have time right now. Are you working tomorrow?" Ashton said, digging in his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out and glanced at the time, and Luke saw him visibly pale as he nodded that yes, he would be working.

"Damn." Ashton muttered. "Okay, I've really got to go. I'll bring you your shirt tomorrow and I'll check out those cajóns then, alright?"

He jumped over the counter, not even bothering with the tight space that the employees used to navigate between the front and the back, and walked swiftly to the door.

"Thanks, Luke. It was nice meeting you. See you tomorrow!"

And then he was gone.

"Bye." Luke murmured to the empty store.


	2. 0.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that if you don't shut your mouth, she'll freak out  
> You better get your shit together, 'cause she's bringing you down  
> -Matchbox 20, 'She's so mean'

☂Ashton☂

"Hey, Liv!" Ashton grinned, jogging up to the cafe table where his girlfriend of five months was seated. Her eyes stayed fixed on her iPhone and she didn't make any move to acknowledge his presence.

"Liv?" He questioned more quietly, sliding into the seat across from her. "Olivia Maria Elise J--?"

"You're late." She said flatly, setting her phone down with a bang. The people a few tables away from them looked up, started by the noise.

"No--what, by like a minute? Two minutes? I had to walk from my house, you know." Ashton tried to stay quiet so he wouldn't disturb the peace of the restaurant, but he could already feel annoyance rising in his chest.

"You promised you wouldn't be late anymore." She flicked her cool grey eyes disdainfully across him and he clenched his fists in frustration.

"But I wasn't late and--God, is it really that big of a deal? Can't we just have a nice, civil dinner and then we can talk about this?" Then you can freak out about this, he thought to himself.

"No, Ashton. It is a big deal. You always do this, always put other things in front of me. What was it this time, huh? Dropping into the record store because you just had to pick up the last Fall Out Boy album on vinyl? Or hey, that's a new shirt. Did you go clothes shopping?" Livvy was talking loudly in the previously hushed restaurant. A concerned looking waitress started toward them, brandishing menus and waters.

"What? No, I--,"

"You what? Tell me the truth." Her cheeks flared an unattractive, blotchy red and Ashton though briefly about how much prettier she had been before she bleached her hair.

"I did stop somewhere. At the music store, but only to check out their cajóns because I need a new one. Thanks to you, I might add." Ashton immediately regretted the last part.

"Thanks to--thanks to me!? What the hell is a fucking cajón?!" She screeched, and the waitress froze in the middle of laying out their menus.

"I, uh--the box drum thing that you sat on sideways and crushed--,"

"Oh, so now you're calling me fat?!" She stood up violently, knocking her chair over onto the tiled floor. "I thought Australian boys were supposed to be sweet!"

"I have no idea what's going on." Ashton observed to nobody in particular. Liv was flapping her arms wildly and gradually looking more like a beet.

"God, Ashton, I--God!" She stomped her foot and then turned on her heel, storming out of the restaurant and into the twilight-drenched street. Ashton leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and taking a deep breath.

"She's cute, huh?" He said dryly to the room of onlookers who were gaping at him. "I'll just be going now."

-

"--then she said I called her fat and left." Ashton finished, peering out of the bus stop on the dimly lit street. His phone was clasped to his ear, and his jacket was wrapped around his body. It was cold, and the thin tee-shirt he had borrowed from the guy at the music store was doing little to fight off the frost accumulating in the air. London was cold at this time of year, and Ashton was really missing sunny south-of-the-equator winters in Sydney.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I did nearly the same thing to Louis, except he actually deserved it." Zayn mumbled into the phone, sounding a little drunk. "And he didn't call me fat."

"I didn't call her fat!" Ashton whisper-yelled, glancing at the sorry cast of people sitting in the small booth with him. "But I am sorry to hear about Louis. What happened?"

"I, um." Zayn halted, clearing his throat. "It's kind of embarrassing. Listen, do to want to come over and share a bottle of something cheap and alcoholic? I'm at my flat. Mikey and whatever-her-name-is decided to fuck at her place tonight, so I'm alone."

"Sure." Ashton said. "The bus just got here. I'll be there in twenty."

"I'll be lying here in the dark and hating my life. See you soon."

"You're the most depressing person I've ever met. Goodbye."

The ride to Zayn's house was short and Ashton was knocking on the door at 6:30, only about ten minutes after getting off the phone with him. There was an unsurprising shortage of people out looking to party the Thursday after Christmas.

"Come in!" He heard Zayn yell and he opened the door, shrugging off his jacket.

"Jesus, it's like a fucking sauna in here." He told Zayn, who was wearing only his boxers and a wife beater and was on the couch in the corner curled protectively around a bottle of wine.

"Why do you always look so golden and flawless? Is that just an Australian thing?" He moaned pathetically. Ashton shrugged and opened the fridge.

"Probably. Do you have any orange juice?"

"No. Where did you get that shirt? I like it."

"Some guy at a music store gave it to me after he got paint all over my other one. I'm going there tomorrow to give it back." Ashton looked thoughtfully down at a can of peach nectar before popping the lid open and taking a swig.

"Oh, was he cute? Better question: was he gay? I could really use a rebound from the relationship-I-never-really-got-into." Zayn took a long drink straight from the bottle.

"At least get a cup, dude. Have some class." Ashton frowned. "And I don't know. I don't think so."

"Fine. Bring me a water glass. Or better yet, a pitcher. Do we have any five gallon buckets?" Zayn fell back on the couch, the bottle securely tucked between his legs.

"Come on, man. My girlfriend just had a bitch fit in a restaurant. I should be the one waking up from a wine-induced coma in thirty-six hours, not you.

"Oh, no, is the bottle empty? I think I need more." Zayn mumbled, trying to stand up. He wobbled and tumbled back to the couch, limbs flailing in all directions. It would almost be comical had Ashton not been so deeply concerned. "And 'sides, you didn't even like her that much anyways."

"Sure I did." Ashton approached the couch, shifting Zayn and slowly prying prying the drained bottle from his hands. "I think you should lay down now--on your side, you fucker, I don't want to have to give you mouth to mouth after you drown in your own vomit--there you go. Now tell me all about Louis."

-

"Why do you even like me?" Zayn whispered hours later. He had sobered up a bit after several glasses of water, a couple pieces of bread and one trip to the bathroom to puke his guts out.

"Because you're nice. And you're funny. And you're usually pretty chill except for when you get all weird and dramatic on me like this." Ashton said. Zayn's head was in his lap and he was clutching a pillow while Ashton aimlessly flipped through channels looking for something decent to watch.

"You think I'm nice?" Zayn asked, and Ashton nodded in ascent. "Do you...think I'm attractive?"

"What kind of question is that, Zayn?" Ashton squinted at the menu on the TV. He hadn't worn his glasses, which usually wasn't a problem except for when it came to reading. "You are attractive. Everybody thinks so."

"But do you?"

"Well," Ashton shifted uncomfortably and glanced down at the boy sprawled across him who was gazing up at him with wide, pleading brown eyes. "Um, sure. For a guy, I mean...you're tall...and, like, you have nice...bone structure. And cool tattoos. What's not to like?"

"Thanks." Zayn almost smiled. "But that was literally the straightest answer you could possibly have given."

"That's the thing about being straight." Ashton told him dryly. "You give straight answers. Woah, pun!"

"Ugh." Zayn stuffed his head into the pillow. "I literally hate you."

"Ouch."

"Just kidding. I love you."

"Hm. Thanks."

It was quiet for a long time. Ashton finally decided on Rocky II, and it was during the third commercial break that Zayn shifted, turning his head so he was looking directly up.

"Hey Ashton?"

"Yeah?" He responded, looking down.

"Can I try something?"

"Depends on what it--," But he was cut off mid-sentence by Zayn' lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say, before we go any further, that while this story was originally published on wattpad, I am the original author. Thank y'all for reading :)


	3. 0.3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, pretty [boy]
> 
> I know that I just met you
> 
> But I might just dare to say
> 
> That I love you." 
> 
> -NeverShoutNever, 'Sweet Perfection'

⚑ Luke ⚐

"You're home?" Calum called out from the tiny kitchen. "You're early."

"I got closed up a little faster than usual and I didn't stop for food." Luke told him, hanging his keys up on the peg by the door. It was still odd to walk into his own apartment rather than his parent's house--strange to be greeted by his best friend rather than his mother.

Luke hopped over the granite counter and into the kitchen, shifting the flip chart on the fridge so he could open it. The number 67 was surrounded by bright yellow paper, and underneath it was an inspirational quote of some sort.

"I still can't believe I've made it two months." Calum said, reaching around Luke and pulling out a soda.

"Yeah, man. I'm really proud of you." Luke told him sincerely.

Calum and Luke had been best friends since they had met four years ago. Luke was thirteen and had just moved from Australia because his dad had been relocated by the company that he was working for. He was five feet of pure terror when he entered the classroom on the first day wearing a punk-rock tee shirt because he hadn't been issued a uniform yet. Everybody had been staring at him like he had an extra head when Calum, the fourteen-year old teacher's aid, sauntered over and introduced himself as one of the only other Australians in the school. They'd been nearly inseparable ever since.

Nearly.

About ten months ago, Calum had broken up with his girlfriend of almost a year. It was messy and terrible and there were lots of tears and emotional poetry and somehow, right under Luke's nose, Calum had gone and developed a drinking problem. A really, really bad one--as in, Luke had to rush him to the hospital one night two months ago after he had found him passed out on the bathroom floor. Since the moment he had woken up, Calum had sworn he would never drink again, and Luke swore he would never let him. So they had rented a flat together and shifted their entire lives 174 blocks from Luke's semi-childhood home. He hadn't looked back since.

"Do we have any orange juice?" Luke asked.

"Why're you still wearing your work shirt?" Calum asked instead, not answering Luke's question.

"I gave my shirt to some guy because he leaned against the wall. I was painting. It was wet."

"That's oddly generous of you. Why?" Calum was sitting on the counter when Luke turned around with the orange juice in his right hand.

"He seemed desperate. And kind of nice. He had a date with some crazy girlfriend and I didn't want to lose my job. He's bringing it back tomorrow." Luke told him as he poured himself a glass.

"Did you at least get his name?"

"Ashton. I could identify him to the police if my shirt went missing, if that's what you're asking." Luke thought back to earlier that day--Ashton had had light brown hair--kind of tousle-y--and green-brown-hazel-ish eyes that reminded him of rainstorms in the spring; mud and fresh cut grass and sunshine struggling through clouds.

"That wasn't what I was asking, but it's good to know." Calum shoved a green apple into his mouth. "Wayy--iah ooh ay a uh?"

"Excuse me?" Luke responded, pulling a package of Ramen out of the cabinet and grabbing a pot.

Calum chewed and swallowed. "I said, 'Wait, did you say Ashton?'"

"Yes, yes I did."

"Was he, perhaps, Autrailian?"

"Uh--actually yeah, I think so. He didn't have an accent. Why?" Luke filled the pot up with water, turing the stove on. "Do you want some of this?"

"Sure. And I ask because I'm pretty sure I used to take a music class with him at the Activity Center when I was, like, fifteen. Do you know if he plays the drums?" Calum had been playing the guitar basically since he left the womb, but he still felt the need to take the occasional class or join a club just to refresh his skills. He was a natural musician and had taught Luke how to play the guitar as well, though Luke wasn't nearly as good.

"He was looking for a cajón. So yeah, I assume he does."

"Shit. I haven't seen him in forever! We were actually pretty good friends up until about--well, you know, about a year ago. I kind of dropped off the map."

"I know, Cal." Luke said, meeting his best friend's eyes. It was still hard for them to talk about--hard for Luke to remember that night when he'd found him, crumpled on the floor. It was difficult to accept sometimes that the only reason Luke was living with Calum was to watch him--to make sure he didn't relapse. He sure didn't have any family willing to do that for him; they'd basically kicked him out when he'd quit university to pursue his music. Luke might not have thought it was the most practical decision, but still...it didn't seem right. Your parents should love you, regardless of your career choices.

"I never...I'll never do that again." Calum mumbled, his voice cracking a bit. "God, Luke...I don't think you'll ever know how sorry I am."

Luke smiled at him, a little lopsided, a little broken. "I love you. I always will. And I forgive you. I did the second you opened your eyes."

"Okay."

-

"Ashton, right?" It was four o'clock the following afternoon and the drummer boy was back, looking considerably more haggard than he had when Luke had first met him. A wool coat was pulled tightly around his shoulders to fight off the damp London chill that haunted the streets all winter, and he had his mess of curls shoved into a grey beanie with a pom-pom on top, adding a rather adorable flare to his otherwise stoic appearance.

Adorable. There was a word Luke never though he would used to describe a guy.

"Yeah. You're Luke. I have good news and bad news." Ashton said, smiling weakly and shrugging off his jacket. The music shop was warm, nearly muggy--Luke was in a tank top and skinny jeans and he was still a bit clammy. The heat was always on.

"Oh, man. You bleached my shirt, didn't you?" Luke joked, desperately hoping this wasn't actually the case.

"Um, no. I just forgot it at my house." Ashton closed his eyes for a second, seeming to gather himself. "Rough night. Rough yesterday in general, actually."

"I'm sorry." Luke said, hopping over the counter and hanging Ashton's discarded jacket on a peg by the door. "What happened?"

"I--um, it's kind of personal." Ashton said, looking at the floor. Luke considered his words for a moment.

"You could tell me. It might actually help." He said. "You know--I'm a complete stranger, I'll probably never see you again, and if I do it probably won't involve anything other than you coming in to get your drum tightened or something. Sometimes it's a good feeling to get things off of your chest to somebody who's completely unbiased, too. It helps you make decisions and such."

"Wow." Ashton said blandly. "That was very wise. You're Australian."

"I am. Though that has nothing to do with my wisdom."

"Nope. I just realized you didn't have an accent. Okay, I'll tell you while you show me the cajóns."

"Deal."

-

"Well," Ashton started, "It's not that long of a story. Basically, after I left here yesterday, my girlfriend flipped the fuck out on me because I was like 1 minute late to our date, so I went over to my best friend's house. He just went through some weird quasi-breakup thing with some guy that lives above his work so he was chugging wine and we were watching movies and shit. It was pretty grim."

"Chugging wine?" Luke said, wincing. "That's not good. Does he have, like...?"

"A drinking problem? No, Zayn's just a drama queen. Gay theater kid with a passion for angsty poetry and black leather, you know?" Ashton said. Luke could tell, even though Ashton was mocking him, he cared a lot about this Zayn guy.

"Oh, okay. Just making sure. Is there more?"

"Oh yeah. It was getting late and I was watching some movie--I can't remember what it was--and he fucking kissed me. I'm straight, Luke! Why...why would he do that?" Ashton was red faced, steaming, staring at the different types of cajóns Luke's boss stocked while tapping a nervous rhythm out on the one he was seated upon.

"Well..." Luke said, trying to think of the best way to put it, "I mean, it kind of sounds like you might have been leading him on. Like, no offense, but you're a pretty attractive dude that runs to your gay best friend's house after you both have traumatic breakups and he's drunk while watching what I can only assume is something romanic and cheesy...like, if he had been a girl you'd liked, that's exactly when you would have gone in for the kill, right?"

"Um..." Ashton stopped tapping. "I guess."

"So you see? It sucks that it happened, but you can't really blame the guy. Don't let it break apart you friendship...it's not worth it."

"I...I won't. I mean, I'll try not to. He's my best friend, you know? I'm pretty much all he's got--his family's shit and he's kind of a loner. But anyway, after he did it, I didn't know how to calm him down because he was absolutely freaking out. So I called his boyfriend-thingy that he was originally upset about, and he came over to talk to him. Louis, the fucking asshole, brought his new boyfriend, who actually seemed pretty nice. They went in the kitchen and Louis left Harry with me, and then after a couple minutes he came out and told me that Zayn wanted me to leave. I haven't talked to him since." Ashton finished in a rush and then let out a long breath, his cheeks a little flushed, his eyes a little wild. He was upset, clearly, but still somehow managed to look just on the verge of a smile. It's strange, Luke thought, but kind of beautiful. 

"Just give him some time, man. It's only been, what, 18 hours?" Luke said. The curve of Ashton's mouth was rather entrancing; his lips formed a mysterious sort of line--like a question and a laugh and a verse of poetry were all grappling to get out first.

Luke was quietly shocked at himself because he's never thought of a guy--hell, he'd never thought of anybody--with such detail as he was thinking about the boy in front of him. Something about Ashton made him never want to stop looking and it was strange and confusing but Luke decided not to read into it too much because it was just going to screw with his head.

"Yeah...yeah. I don't know. It's just so confusing, Luke. I...I'm confused." Ashton mumbled.

"Confused?" Luke said, distracted by the way Ashton sucked in his cheeks. Ashton had cheekbones like a fairy; high and delicate, almost making his face shape feminine. "Why?"

"I," Ashton started, taking a deep breath and letting his eyes drift up to Luke's, "I just feel like it should have felt more...wrong."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't exactly know how this website works, but I hope you guys are enjoying CUFA so far!


End file.
